


the light behind your eyes

by orphan_account



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Ending with a twist, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Platonic Male/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: if i could be with you tonighti would sing you to sleep,never let them take the light behind your eyes.





	the light behind your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the mcr song 'the light behind your eyes'
> 
> this was a bit different to my usual style. it's my first time writing about topics this dark, and this is far from perfect, so constructive criticism is appreciated.

Wooyoung is scared.

This isn’t an irregular occurrence. Every so often, and always at night, he will just feel dread, fear, panic, for no apparent reason. His entire body would start prickling, and he would often scratch his arms and shoulders to the point of tearing the skin, just to try and stop the horrible feeling. His throat would tighten up, like someone had wrapped a noose around his neck. Speaking and breathing became painful. Worst of all though, his mind would start racing, thoughts that he had buried in the depths of his mind from his last breakdown resurfacing like sea monsters rearing their heads up from crashing waves. Thoughts like “Is there even a reason for me to exist?” or “You’re the one holding this team back”. If there's one thing Wooyoung is good at, it’s putting himself down.

During one of these episodes, Wooyoung usually just tries to curl up in his bed. He shoves his earphones in his ears, the melodies of Chopin combatting to expel the ugly anxieties running rings around his head. He has the top bunk, so his roommate Yeosang just assumes that his friend is sleeping. In reality, Wooyoung’s pillow is getting drenched with hot tears, knuckles turning white from clutching the nearest plushie, legs tucked into his chest as he tries to make himself as small as possible, as insignificant as he deserves to be.

Right now, Wooyoung seems to be having one of these attacks. He doesn’t know what they are exactly, doesn’t think it’s worth a ten second Google search to figure out what’s wrong with him. Which is exactly how he feels right now: useless. Not worth spending time on. His fingernails dig into the skin of his forearm, his other hand clutching a small dog plushie to his chest as tears roll silently down his face. He’s mastered the art of crying with minimal noise, not wanting to disturb Yeosang who is usually sleeping when he has his breakdowns.

This time is different. The noose around his neck is tighter than usual, his arm has been ripped up to the point of leaving scars, and the voices are being particularly harsh today. “You should just kill yourself. Would make life easier for the rest of the band” and “Why are you still here? Anyone else would’ve committed by this point” run rampant through his wrecked mind, invading every crevice of his brain, leaving no space to breathe.

That’s why Wooyoung feels so terrified right now. He can’t breathe. Sure, his chest is rising and falling, but the breaths are coming in quick pants, none deep enough to get enough sweet air into his exhausted lungs. As the noose continues to crush his trachea, he realises he can’t continue being such a fucking nuisance for Yeosang. He is this close to making noise; his only choice is to leave the bed and leave his roommate in peace.

Stumbling down the ladder, he rips his earphones out of his ears and chucks his phone up to his bed, hearing it land with a soft thump on his damp pillow. He still has the soft dog in a death grip, and tears continue to run steadily down his face as he trips and falls his way down the corridor into the living room. 

Wooyoung collapses on the large couch, head sinking into the linen cushions. His mind is close to explosion at this point, his demons devouring every positive thought from his mind. His face crumples up, and he lets out a broken whimper. He clamps his hand over his mouth in a pitiful attempt to keep quiet as more sobs wrack his body. He’s useless, he’s worthless, he doesn’t deserve to live, the members would be better off without him, he wants to die he wants to die hewantstodiehewantstodie- 

“Wooyoungie?”

Wooyoung’s mind stops. The tears stop falling down his cheeks and his eyes widen, heart racing. That voice. San. San knows now. He knows how much of a fucking baby Wooyoung is, how completely and utterly useless he is, the secret he had tried to hide for so long.

The singer stays silently curled up on the couch, skin prickling more than ever, mind and heart going rampant, breathing rate picking up by the second. He hears soft footsteps padding in his direction. They get closer, and at this point, Wooyoung’s fucked-up brain decides that it would be a good idea to run away. Like he always does.

Swinging his feet over the couch, he plants them on the ground and prepares to bolt. However, before he can move, two strong hands are placed on his sore shoulders. The singer hisses at the contact, but manages to keep his head down.

Before long though, a hand is placed softly under his chin, and his face is lifted up to meet the worried eyes of his best friend. San is looking as beautiful as ever. Perfect face, sharp cheekbones. Qualities Wooyoung will never have.

He probably looks like a mess right now. His eyes are puffy, his hair is an absolute wreck from when he pulled on it in despair earlier, and his expression is a mixture of fear, sadness, and guilt. All these horrible features of his face are probably what makes San’s eyes widen, as concern washes over his features. Wooyoung quickly knocks the older man’s hand off of his chin, and lets his bangs cover his face.

“Let me go” Wooyoung mumbles hoarsely. His throat feels scratchy and disgusting.

San does the opposite.

Wooyoung feels the sofa sinking as the older sits next to him. Muscular arms wrap around his weak body. Wooyoung freezes. San only continues to hug him tighter, as if he’s enclosing the younger in a protective bubble. He presses into every ounce of Wooyoung, melding their bodies together.

“Let me go” Wooyoung repeats, louder this time. His voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, the strain of his crying beginning to show.

“No” San whispers. His voice is choked up with emotion, words muffled from where he is pressed into the crook of the younger’s neck.

He's had enough. He doesn’t deserve what San is giving to him. He pushes weakly on San's chest, but the other man stays grounded, still attached to the younger.

Wooyoung is at breaking point.

“Stop it!” he cries brokenly, struggling against the older man. He pulls his arms from where they are sandwiched between him and San’s chest, trying to push the elder away from him. San catches his wrists from where they are flailing about, holding them in a vice-like grip. It’s all too much.

“I DON’T DESERVE THIS!”

Wooyoung breaks down. All energy leaves his body. His hands go limp in San's grip, and he sags in his position, crying his heart out. His heads droops and lands on San’s chest, staining his white shirt with tears. He can’t feel anything other than sadness. Sadness that had been consuming him from the start, from when he started having his breakdowns, sadness that he had always kept bottled up, stashed away in his mind ready to release whenever he felt worthless enough.

Through his emotional outburst, he hears San repeating something.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.”

Wooyoung’s hands somehow find the coordination to grip onto his best friend's shoulders. His sobs echo throughout the living room, San holding tightly and wordlessly onto him the entire time.

A few minutes later, Wooyoung’s sobs have subsided into small sniffles. All he feels now is exhaustion. The pair haven’t moved from their original positions. Wooyoung is still leaning against the elder’s sturdy chest, and San is still stroking the younger’s head wordlessly.

“You’re probably tired. Let’s get some sleep.” San murmurs quietly.

Wooyoung doesn’t respond, scared his voice will break. Instead, he manages a tiny, barely visible nod.

Wrapping his arm firmly around the younger man, San guides him to his single room. Leading Wooyoung in, the older singer helps him lay down. He is strangely pliant under San’s touch. All energy seems to have drained from his body.

The elder lies down next to him. He pulls Wooyoung gently forward until his back is slotted against San’s chest. He starts stroking his hair gently, fingers brushing against the wetness on Wooyoung’s cheeks, feeling his trembling, the way he curls up on himself. Wooyoung can’t even begin to explain the shitshow of emotions happening inside him right now, mostly consisting of guilt and worthlessness.

He starts to trap himself in his own mind again. The usual thoughts about what a piece of shit he is, along with some new ones. “He’s only doing this out of pity. How could someone as perfect as him care about a freak like you?” “God, you really need to stop annoying the members so much with your worthless existence. You even woke San up, you dumb fool.” The voices grow louder and more distorted.

All of a sudden, San starts singing.

It’s a soft, slow song – a ballad by a female singer he can’t recall the name of. The lyrics are sweet and gentle, and bound to calm anyone down. Slowly, the voices begin to shut up and Wooyoung feels the clouds in his mind clear away. He feels San hug him closer, and lets the simple melody float lightly through his fatigued mind.  
After a while, San seems to have dropped off. Light snores echo around the room. Relieved that the elder was free of him, at least for now, Wooyoung feels his eyelids growing heavy.

He’ll leave all their problems until tomorrow, he supposes.

-

San wakes up with a jolt, breathing heavily. He had been in Wooyoung’s mind again, a place that almost seems like his own at this point. Acting out what could – no, should – have happened that night. He feels strangely disconnected from reality, just for a few seconds, before a noise from the other side of the bed brings him back to earth.

“San?”

And San prays, he wishes with all his heart that the voice is Wooyoung’s. That it was Wooyoung sleeping next to him. But it’s not. It never is. And it’s that realisation, a daily occurrence which plagues him every hour of every day, that causes his random spurts of crying, his deep depressions that he can’t seem to get out of for days on end.

His constant, never-ending heartache after losing his best friend.

The tears well up in his eyes, a sensation San has grown accustomed to as of late. As he starts his third breakdown of the night, and the familiar, warm arms of Hongjoong wrap around him quietly, he catches a faint glimpse through his hazy sight of the crumpled piece of paper on his bedside dresser, the one that hasn’t moved since it was first placed there. He’s memorised its words by heart, could recite them in his sleep if he wanted to. That tear streaked; hastily written note that will torment him until the day he dies.

“Thank you, Sannie. For everything.

You and everyone else will be better off without me.

Sorry for remaining a burden until the very end, 

Wooyoung.”


End file.
